


Take my heart

by wordswehavesaid



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: First Kiss, Kid!Fic, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/pseuds/wordswehavesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver sits in art class, painstakingly carving three little words into clay, hunched over at his table and not letting anyone see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrxlorrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrxlorrd/gifts).



> Written for the Olivarry Valentine's Weekend (being run by the same blog as Olivarry Week over on tumblr) and inspired by my amazing friend Robby's ceramic-making skills. Enjoy, and Happy Valentine's Day!

Oliver sits in art class, painstakingly carving three little words into clay, hunched over at his table and not letting anyone see.

They’d been told they could make anything they wanted, for anybody. And it had planted the seed of an idea in his brain, one that just wouldn’t let him go despite every rational thought suggesting that he’s only setting himself up for embarrassment. He’s not the greatest artist, for one, and he doesn’t even know if the recipient of his artwork would even want it. 

He’d never say no, of course, because Barry’s too nice to do that. Too nice and too sweet and too _cute_ and that’s precisely what’s gotten Oliver into this mess. This mess where he’s voluntarily making a Valentine for his crush when their class hasn’t done Valentines since the third grade.

Tommy tries to peek, but Oliver just throws himself over it and snaps at him, "It’s not for you! Just go back to your own stupid project Tommy, it’s none of your business!“

His best friend rolls his eyes and goes back to flicking bits of clay at Laurel. Watching him with guarded eyes, Oliver finally straightens back up, only to find he’s partially flattened it. "Ugh.” With burning ears, he begins to reshape the heart. It’s lumpy and awkward now but he only has ten minutes before the teacher’s going to take their work to the kiln.

When time’s called for them to wrap up their work and clean up, Oliver’s the last to shuffle into line with his piece.

“And who’s this for, Oliver? A special Valentine?”

“No. It’s for my mom,” he lies, looking at his shoes as he places it on the teacher’s cart.

She looks at him with a knowing smirk. “All right. Well I’m sure she’ll love it. Better get going to your next class. We’ll finish up with painting on Tuesday.”

  
_Tuesday_? But that’s too late! Oliver must make a particularly distressed expression, because the teacher adds, “Or you could always stop by after school and paint it then. If you really want your mom to have it before the weekend’s over.”

“Um, yeah, that’d be great,” he practically squeaks, cursing himself for the awful lie.

He actually cuts his last class, pretending he has a stomach ache and getting a hall pass, but ducking into the art room rather than the nurse’s. It’s gym, it’s not like it _counts_ for anything. Not like this will.

The art teacher looks up from her computer and shakes her head, but gets the now hardened ceramic down from the cooling rack.

Oliver goes for the paint. He picks a pale pink because, well, he doesn’t want to walk around with a bright-colored heart but pink is the color for these things, so. He hopes Barry is ok with pink.

The paint job isn’t the best - who’s he kidding, _none_ of this is - but he needs it to dry by the time the class is over. Oliver watches the clock tick down the minutes till school lets out with equal parts excitement and dread. Can he really do this?

But when the bell rings out shrilly, he shoots up and out the door like a rocket. Barry always tries to run home at the end of the day to avoid his various bullies - a thought that churns angrily in his stomach - so he’s going to need to be fast if he wants to catch him.

He’s got his project hiding underneath his shirt with an arm braced around his middle to hold it in place. The ceramic scratches at his stomach, but it’s better than letting the whole school see what he’s made. This is for one pair of eyes only.

He just manages to spot the bright red of Barry’s backpack as the smaller kid rounds the corner down the block from the school, and heart already pounding in his chest Oliver gives chase.

“Barry! Hey! Wait up!”

The other boy gives a start and initially speeds up, then stumbles to a halt as he seems to register just who had shouted his name. Barry turns and watches him with both nerves and curiosity as he hurries to catch up.

“Um, hi Ollie.”

“Hi, Barry,” he pants. “Boy, you’re fast!”

“Thanks,” the other one shyly replies. But his lips turn into something of a pout as he eyes Oliver’s disheveled appearance and the arm wrapped around his stomach. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he assures hurriedly. Here it is, the moment of truth. “I just, uh, I got something for you. Well I made it in art class.”

Barry’s head tilts in curiosity as he retrieves the ceramic and Oliver nearly drops it because _cute cute cute_. But his eyes go wide as he takes in the heart shape. Oliver practically has to force it into the other boy’s hands, he’s so stunned.

“You made this for me?” It’s just above a whisper, Barry’s eyes fixed on the words he’d carved into the clay and Oliver can’t tell if it’s wonder of horror on his face and he should have gone with different words, ones that didn’t put his actual heart completely on the line.

But since he’s already doomed either way he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, I made it, you know…for Valentine’s Day.” The last part is mumbled, and he hopes for a split second that Barry didn’t hear it at all.

But Oliver’s pretty sure he did when Barry’s cheeks flush a bright pink. He’s clutching the ceramic now and biting his lip as he darts a look up at Oliver. “Oh.” Is squeaked at him, and all he can do is give a nervous smile.

Barry frowns again, however, and Oliver thinks his heart plummets into his stomach, at least until the smaller boy starts to babble, “But I didn’t get you anything! And, oh no, you made this, it must have taken _forever_! I’m sorry, I just didn’t think–”

“It’s ok,” he says, raising his hands in an attempt to show the other kid there was no reason to be upset. Barry looks like he’s ready to cry and it nearly makes him want to screw up his courage and hug the boy in comfort. But his own nerves are already all over the place right now. “I’m just glad you like it. Happy Valentine’s Day, Barry.”

He backs up a step, ready to turn and go before he embarrasses himself. But suddenly Barry leans forward, curling one hand around the strap of Oliver’s backpack and closing his eyes as he presses his puckered lips to Oliver’s.

Barry’s lips are warm, a little wet like he’d licked them in the moment before, and soft against his, a brief pressure that he knows must only have been a second but feels like an eternity, yet it’s all over before h can do much more than blink in shock.

“H-happy Valentine’s Day, Oliver,” Barry stammers, face practically aflame now and looking like the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Then like that, the other boy is fleeing the scene, hugging his ceramic heart to his chest as he runs home.

Oliver stands very still for a long moment before his whole face splits into a wide beam. He’s still smiling like that as he doubles back around the building to where the kindergartners are being let out.

Thea comes running up to him looking absolutely gleeful with her big bag of cards and sweets. “Look at all these Valentines I got Ollie! And I don’t have to share ‘em cause you’re a big kid and don’t get any anymore!”

“Big deal,” he ruffles her hair in answer to her tease, taking her backpack  to carry along with his own as they start their walk home. “You got some dumb cards. _I_ got my first kiss.”

Thea gapes up at him for a long moment. “No fair!”

“Is too fair. And there’s no way I’m sharing.” He’s not going to share Barry Allen with anyone the whole rest of his life, he knows that already.

—

Years later, during a rare study-date at the West home - Barry always says it’s because Oliver’s house is better but they both know it’s because of a certain overprotective cop - he’s lounging on Barry’s bed with an arm wrapped around the other’s waist as the younger boy reads aloud _The Grapes of Wrath_. He’s totally absorbing the chapter, honest. But as he’s just about ready to drift off into a well-deserved nap his eyes light upon a faded ceramic heart propped up on a shelf, the words I Love You scrawled in a child’s hand across the surface.  
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “You kept it?”

Barry stops in the middle of a sentence, throwing a slightly irritated look back at him for letting his attention wander, probably, but eventually he follows Oliver’s gaze to the artwork.

“Well, why wouldn’t I? It was my first Valentine.” He seems to only register what he said after it’s left his mouth, cheeks reddening as he mutters, “God, that’s so pathetic.”

“First Valentine, huh?” Oliver’s grinning with his teeth as he pushes himself up to leverage over his boyfriend. “How about _only_ Valentine? I like the sound of that.”

“Way to drive the point home,” Barry grumbles, but he’s already fighting a smile.

“Come on, Bear. Be my Valentine.”

“It’s not even Valen - _mm_! ” Barry’s cut off as Oliver claims his lips in a kiss, pressing him down into the mattress. The book hits the floor with a _thump!_ as Barry’s arms wind around his neck and he takes that as a very enthusiastic yes.

God, he loves Valentine’s Day.


End file.
